


Myopia

by Artusende



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bizarre metaphors for love, Cannibalism, Drabble, Gen, Gore, Just good ol fashioned poetic waxing about gore, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artusende/pseuds/Artusende
Summary: In the moment of execution, Helex gets to see the soul of his targets. Blip is no different.Alternative title: Blip's Last Supper: From the Mind of Helex
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Myopia

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this deleted scene from an early sketch of MTMTE #39. https://i.imgur.com/x9jQFcx.png Was Helex going to actually eat Blip's brain? Probably not. Do I care? Absolutely not.
> 
> Just take this I'm done messing with it

Helex’s affection for brain modules was not a secret. It had become a brand for him, like a trademark or a signature, and he had no issue with it becoming a defining aspect of his reputation. After all, his predilection had opened up plenty of opportunities for puns. When one of his fellow Division members quipped that someone lost their head or didn’t have a lot on their mind with light voices and dark eyes, they could make the corner of his mouth quirk upward as he separated someone’s hard drive from the cranial energon vessels.

(Not that it was difficult to put a smile on his face when he got his hands in someone’s cranium. They may be brain modules but they’re actually the true heart of a person, apart from their fuel pump. As living repositories containing not just terabytes, but peta- and exabytes of memories, they were the foundation of personality; stored in that wiring were people, loves, losses, events, souls, entire lives. And Helex crunched those layers of silk-thin, delicate plating laced edge-to-edge with neurones under his dentae all the same like slag metal in the jaws of a trash compactor.)

(The puns his cohort offered just made the whole thing even funnier than it already was.)

But even though Helex made a show of playing with brain modules, his real love was for the optics. Very rarely did a mech retain their ability to form words or process language when Helex got inside their head. Far more often, they were reduced to the most basal existence, their mind finding definition not through complex subjects dictated in words or thoughts but rather raw emotion, like  _ fear  _ and  _ pain _ . Those strong emotions forced themselves to be expressed like pressurised gas in a tight container, fighting for any crack or pinhole to escape the vessel.

The most convenient route of escape was through the optics.

Optics glow, flicker, widen and stare and speak with a language all their own, separate from the mouth and tongue. They were wonderfully articulate once their emotive ability was unlocked, post-lobotomy. Helex found that he could speak that primal language of the optics quite well when he was close enough to see a mech’s optics speak that lovely, intimate language. Especially when his own mouth was usually busy with other matters.

Blip’s optics before him were absolutely lovely. It had been a long time since he’d seen someone’s optics speak so clearly.

As he had awoken with his own brain in his mouth, Blip’s eyes had grown even more vibrant, lavender glowing neon and burning into hot white as pain and terror throbbed in him, written clear as a cloudless day in their purple glass.

It was a rare response; the optics were usually dull and flickering, often asymmetrically, at this point. For that, Helex gladly gave himself credit for pulling off such a clean removal of Blip’s brain. 

No damage. Fully intact. Fully aware. Comprehending; perhaps not understanding, but comprehending at least on a surface level what was happening to him.

The tiny pinpricks of Blip’s pupils jittered, trying to find focus through the fog of agony. It didn’t really matter where Blip looked, though, because Helex knew all he could see was the face leaning in so closely to Blip’s own.

Helex could feel his lips almost brush against the golden, neurone-rich sphere in Blip’s mouth. The tingle of proximity glittered against his lips and tempted him; but he held back from biting down, just barely. 

Faintly, the Empyrean Suite played, but the only music Helex paid attention to was the stuttering breaths that escaped from the corners of Blip’s mouth and through his nose, spattering thin strands of oral fluid and energon around his own brain with each shaky gasp.

Blip already knew full well what had put him in this position; on his knees, in front of Helex, with his brain in his mouth. He could deny it all he liked to Tarn, but everyone present knew his guilt. So Helex felt no need to interrupt the wet, wheezing sound emanating from Blip with wordy accusations or self-righteous explanations on Decepticon code, as Tarn did. Helex and Blip reached the mutual agreement of guilt without words, solely through the lights of their optics: Blip’s bright ones, threatening to burst the backlights in them, and Helex’s dark and almost lascivious.

Leaning back just a hair to take in more of the artwork that was Blip’s torture, Helex tilted Blip’s face upwards by pressing the pad of one finger under his jaw. Blip’s dermal plating jumped reactively at the unexpected touch and Helex almost smiled.

As the light shifted across Blip’s wide, gleaming optics with the tilt of his head, Helex saw the question in them. The bizarre intersection of cruel torture and sudden thoughtfulness in Helex’s face and touch was confusing Blip.  _ Why? _ Blip asked silently, glassy optics and drawn-together eyebrows searching Helex’s own and screaming the question in place of his indisposed mouth.

Helex peeled his gaze away from the shifting, questioning light show of Blip’s optics to glance at his comrades. They were watching the scene intently but were focused on Helex, not Blip.

They had their turns with Blip already. They wanted to see Helex finish him off.

It was all Helex’s show, now.

The tingling feeling of four pairs of optics all focused on him pushed his inner exhibitionist to grandstanding self-expression. Helex reached both hands up to rest them on Blip’s cheeks. He traced a thumb softly under the weeping cracks of Blip’s right optic, their faces so close and broken apart only by the sphere of Blip’s brain between their mouths. Helex, invested in his impromptu performance art, had drawn a caricature of a lover’s hold; and his lips burned to finish the gore-splattered parody.

Helex leaned into a snake-jawed kiss with Blip’s brain but kept his eyes open, watching Blip’s. His front dentae clattered softly as they found purchase on the wet surface of the brain module. It vibrated gently against his dentae as Blip tried to scream through it. Helex’s half-lidded optics watched as realisation and desperate denial bloomed in Blip’s own like the spread of pigment from a watercolour brushstroke.

Blip was fully intact. Fully aware. Comprehending; and therefore could comprehend that these were his last moments. Helex saw that animalistic, basal sense despair, that of prey finally caught and bled dry of hope; he heard it in Blip’s optics and their lavender-light language; he heard it in the muffled scream that hummed faintly in his mouth.

Helex bit down and watched.

Those speaking optics widened and glowed with the crunch of thin internal plating, the sound registering across Blip’s circuitry first before the mind-flaying torrent of pain.

Blip’s pupils seized first, then the rest of him spasmed as Helex’s incisors cleaved messily with their serrated edges, tearing and leaving frayed edges in the bite mark, sinking roughly through multitudes of motor neurones and sensory wiring.

A jet of cranial fluid splashed thickly onto Helex’s tongue and his optics automatically fluttered shut with bliss. Only the feeling of Blip’s face quivering under his hands convinced Helex to refocus on the optics dying inches from his own. He could never resist the chance to watch the optics’ language fade from a mech in death, the light dimming and dying like a sunset.

A small dribble of something -- maybe cranial fluid, maybe energon, probably saliva from Helex drooling luxuriantly -- escaped the corner of his mouth but Helex didn’t bother to wipe it away. Being part of the DJD meant being alright with mess. Helex pulled away from the ragged, tooth-marked hole-punch in the brain module, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to the oozing core of Blip’s brain.

The faint thrum of a sparkbeat, discernible under the thin facial plating, began to lag under the hand still pressed softly to Blip’s cheek. Helex recognised the death knell in the slowing tempo. The remainder of this moment Helex created was measured now, numbered by Blip’s sparkbeats.

Helex locked gazes intently with Blip. He wanted the steady crimson of his optics to be the last thing imprinted on Blip’s retinas. Helex’s face would be the vision that would ferry Blip, screaming, to Primus. Were Blip an Autobot, perhaps a conjunx would have been allowed to sit with him in his last moments, with a kind executioner. The thought made Helex smile; in a way, Helex earned all the intimacy of a conjunx, having seen the core of Blip’s mind and been allowed to partake in it. In a way, that was love to Helex: a breed of cruelty he deemed himself above inflicting, a death through vulnerability and exposure of the most delicate inner workings.

Blip’s vivid, horrified optics died and greyed to empty, flat soot, unfocused and foggy. Pieces of himself, both physical and mental, oozed down his own lips and off his chin, splattering the top edge of his chestplate.

Helex had to take care to remember these final details. Now that Blip was gone, with the organ that contained his entire being now roughly bisected, he would be the only one to remember this shared memory.

After a moment where his hard drive compressed the video file and stored it away in a special repository, Helex sighed and rose to his feet. Without Helex’s hands to hold him up, Blip’s corpse fell flat on its face, crushing the remainder of the brain as his body weight forced it with a  _ pop  _ past the strain of his jaws and into his throat. Helex’s only regret was that those optics and the grey fog in them were no longer visible from how Blip had fallen.

Tarn took a few steps towards Helex; enough to announce himself, but not encroaching. “Lovely performance,” he said, simply.

Helex hummed, still watching Blip’s body. Grey patches began their mangy creep across the ugly paint job. Blip’s ashy body would take on a far better appearance than when he was alive, now that he blended into the dead, war-torn landscape.

Tarn and Helex were silent, letting the performance draw itself to a close. Two pairs of optics watched Blip grey out fondly. Contentedness with their work flowed mutually between them.

The distinctive footsteps of Tarn turning and walking away signalled for the rest of the Division to return to the warship, another name crossed off The List and their job now finished, Blip’s case file now closed.

Helex stayed for only a moment longer to spit out remnants of plating onto Blip’s corpse.

He was the last to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I had the "spit in my mouth, look in my eyes" line from WAP playing in my head during the bite scene. As homage to Ms. Cardi, I had Helex spit on Blip's corpse.
> 
> Blip's head game is fire, but is his punani _Dasani?_


End file.
